


nitenai bokura wa hosoi ito de tsunagatte iru

by Chash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Police, F/M, Supernatural Elements, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-24 01:36:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8351185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: Becoming a vampire isn't really a big deal. All Bellamy has to do is switch to night shift, set up a subscribe and save order for cow blood on Amazon, and give up garlic bread. It's pretty straightforward.
His new partner, though. She's an issue.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for bellarkefanfiction's Halloween celebration, for the prompt: Buddy cop story where both officers are trying to hide that they’re vampires from each other.
> 
> Title is from Spitz and means "the two of us, who are not alike, are bound by a thin thread."

The problem with being a vampire (or any other supernatural being) is the same problem there is with everything else, from what Bellamy can tell: the farther you are from being a cishet rich white human male, the harder it is. And of those, Bellamy is only a cis human guy, which means that his whole life he's been dealing with shitty people who have shitty assumptions about him based on his race, class, sexuality, or some combination of the three. His life is basically one continuous intersectionality failure even _before_ he becomes a vampire.

So, yeah. It's going to be a pain.

"A pain," Miller repeats.

"Yeah," he says. "It's not like I can't deal with it, but, man. It's going to suck."

"If you say pun intended, I'm going to murder you."

He snorts. "Shit, I wasn't even trying. I wish that had been intentional. Maybe I'm just going to be a really good vampire. I'm a natural."

"Fuck, I can't believe we're friends."

"Plenty of people deal with this shit every day," Bellamy points out. "It's doable. One in--"

"If you start talking vampire statistics, I swear to god, I will go and find a stake and murder you." 

"Which would be a hate crime. Dick." He flops back on the bed, putting his arm over his eyes. It's very livable, being a vampire. Or very unlivable. It's _doable_ , he knows that much. Millions of people live semi-normal lives every day, as vampires.

"Vampire cops aren't exactly popular," Miller points out. Which he knew, obviously, but it was one of those things he hadn't been wanting to dwell on too much. 

"I know. I don't have to tell anybody."

"That's seriously your plan?"

"I'll tell your dad," he says. Captain Miller is a good guy, and he likes Bellamy. "I need to put it in the arrest report anyway. So I explain the situation, tell him why I want to keep it on the down-low, ask to get reassigned to night shift. And then I just keep it quiet."

"Drink blood out of a nalgene?"

He shrugs. "Thermos. Pretend it's coffee."

Miller shakes his head. "If my dad thinks you can try it, I guess you can."

"I'm not letting this ruin my life," he says, firm. "It doesn't have to be a big deal."

At least Miller is a good enough friend to not point out that it already ruined his life. He's undead now. When your life ends, it's also ruined, kind of by default.

But he can still make the best of it.

*

In an ideal world, the best of it would not involve Clarke Griffin.

"Seriously?"

Captain Miller doesn't look up from his desk. He's on for another hour before the night shift captain comes in. Bellamy's just as glad. "She needs a partner. You need a partner. Is there a problem, Blake?"

"It's _Griffin_ ," he says. "We've never really gotten along, sir."

"I remember. She did ask that you not tell her where her mother can shove it again. She said she already had an exhaustive list of places her mother can shove it."

He can feel his jaw twitching. "And is she going to tell me about poverty statistics she doesn't have any personal experience with like she's an expert?"

"She's going to be a professional, just like you are," says the captain. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir." 

"I did give her this same speech," he adds, softening a little. "And she was just as enthusiastic as you were."

"Did you tell her why I switched to night shift?" 

"I did not. I'm sure if it ever becomes important to your work, you'll tell her."

Clarke Griffin is close to the last person he would ever want to tell about any of this. Her mother is the district attorney, and she's tight with all the people Bellamy wants to arrest but won't ever be able to, because rich people can afford to break the law. Aside from being female, she's probably the single most privileged person he has ever exchanged more than ten words with, and she's been an asshole every time.

So has he, of course, but he's pretty sure she started it. 

"I will," he says anyway, because it's true. He's not a shitty enough cop or person to let his own self interest get in the way of his job. "Thank you, sir."

"Good luck," he says, and Bellamy figures he'll need it.

Griffin isn't exactly waiting for him when the captain is done with him, but she's hanging out by his the coffee maker in a very deliberate way. He was glad to find out he still likes coffee, even as a vampire; it would be more trouble to have to give up the habit entirely. Although it's a little bit distressing to find out that not even undeath cures a caffeine addiction.

"How long before I get used to the change in schedule?" he asks, because he figures that's the kind of thing a normal human would say.

"No idea. You can let me know." She takes a deliberate sip from her own mug. "Did you talk him out of it?"

"You ever talked him out of anything?"

She smiles. "Nope. But if we suck enough as a team, maybe Captain Pike will reassign us."

"How is he?" he asks. Griffin is the only other detective he knows very well from night shift, and _very well_ is obviously kind of a strong way of saying _the one he gets in fights with at state functions_. But she's his partner until they can get out of it, so she's by default his closest contact and ally.

He's a vampire who has to trust Clarke Griffin. Life is officially fucking surreal.

"Captain Pike?" She considers. "He's a werewolf."

"He's also black," says Bellamy, without missing a beat. "Pretty sure neither of those has any bearing on how he is as a captain."

"I'm pretty sure they both do," Griffin retorts, cool as anything. "He's really hard on police brutality and vocal about racial issues, for a start. Which I know you appreciate." She shoots him a grin. "I really liked those tweets of yours that went viral, by the way. About how a few extremist cops shouldn't sour you on the whole institution. _There are like five good ones_ was my favorite part."

"So you think that's the most important thing about him? That he's a werewolf."

"People call night shift _the monster mash_ ," she says. "And we deal with a lot of undead crime. Captain Pike has a lot of influence over that."

"You make it sound like a bad thing. Think he's too lenient?"

"Too harsh. It's like when I was in high school and I wanted to make sure everyone knew I was a chill girl, not like those other girls."

" _Chill_ isn't really a character trait I associate with you."

"Well, I sucked at it." She sobers. "You get what I mean though, right? He's worried about looking like he's soft on nonhuman perps, so he's harsher on them than he'd be on humans. And we get a lot more nonhuman perps than day shift. They only come out at night, or whatever."

"So, we're the monster mash and he doesn't want to be."

"Basically."

"But you do."

She shrugs. "I feel the same way you do. I get why he doesn't. He got bitten and he doesn't want it to happen to anyone else. I can respect it to a point, but--only to a point. Police should be here to help people. _All_ people. I don't want to have a reputation for playing favorites. Or unfavorites."

As far as he knows, her reputation is for being fair. He sort of figured it was bullshit, but--if she's trying to impress him, she shows no sign of it. If anything, she looks wary, as if she's worried he won't agree. That his tolerance goes only as far as full humans.

"Yeah," he says. "Sounds good to me."

*

Working with Clarke Griffin is absolutely nothing like he expected.

She's a few years younger than he is, but she acts like she's showing him the ropes, and he surprises himself by finding it kind of endearing. It's a good tactic when they're out in the field together--everyone has expectations, him the bad cop, her the good, and they can fake it for a while, until Griffin suddenly turns cold and deadly, and Bellamy just shrugs, inclines his head, and says, "Yeah, I wouldn't want to piss her off either." Working with her is almost second-nature. Easy.

The vampire thing honestly isn't that much harder to get used to. He gets cow blood off Amazon, which means that there's a record of it, and an easily hackable one at that, but it feels safer than buying it in person, where people could just _see him_. He keeps it in a thermos while he's on duty and no one questions it, and it's easy to remember to eat for show when everyone else does it.

There are minor inconveniences, of course. He doesn't need to go to the bathroom anymore, but he has to pretend to while also avoiding the bathroom, which is full of mirrors. At least mirrors just _distort_ him, instead of not reflecting him at all like in stories, so the car is okay, but it still makes him nervous. He can't have pizza or other foods, for fear of his reaction to garlic. He'd never been a fan of bursting into places uninvited, but now he _can't_ , and he's amazed Griffin doesn't get fed up with his insistence on waiting for permission to go in. But she seems to think it's kind of funny.

His biggest hurdle is crime scenes, because it takes him a little while to realize that hunger works differently for vampires than humans. It's easier to lose track of it, to notice he hasn't had a drink in a while only when someone is bleeding, the scent of it thick in the air, the tang of rust filling his mouth, making him _ache_.

So he pretends to be squeamish, and Griffin rolls her eyes.

"Why would you become a cop if you don't like blood?" she asks, the third time he has to duck out. "There are plenty of jobs that don't involve ever interacting with it. It would be so easy."

"Who _likes_ blood?" he grumbles. "Don't tell me you became a cop because you love blood."

"No, if I just wanted blood, I would have gone to med school like my mom wanted me to."

"Your mom wanted you to go to med school?" he asks, surprised. "She always seems happy to brag about your career at--"

Griffin holds up her hand. "Stop. My mom and I haven't agreed about anything I've done since high school. But she's a politician at heart. She knows how to make situations work to her advantage. It doesn't mean she approves of my choices."

He takes a long drink of blood, thinking it over. He's still new enough to this that it feels like it should be revolting, taking a huge gulp of blood, but the relief of it is instant, and he feels strength tingling through his veins. He does drink less coffee now, after all; caffeine isn't nearly so potent.

"What happened in high school? Or after, I guess." She cocks her head, confused. "You keep talking about how you were in high school. Internalized misogyny, got along with your mom, model citizen. What happened?"

"College. You're right, I'm a spoiled rich girl. But college helped a lot. I was in prep schools all through high school, really isolated, easy to just--think I was right about everything. I met a lot more different people in college, started thinking about how lucky I was." She wets her lips, glances at him sidelong, as if she's making careful calculations. "Got a girlfriend. My mom freaked out about--I don't even know. I think she just had my life all planned out, and liking girls wasn't part of that. She's good at--she talks a good game, I guess. But she doesn't like when I deviate from what she thinks I should be."

"And you're into girls, so--"

"Bi," she corrects. "Which honestly might have been worse for her. She has a lot more talking points about lesbians. Bisexuality confuses her. She figures if I end up married to a guy, it won't even matter."

"That sucks," he says. It feels dishonest not to add, "But I get it."

"Yeah?"

"I'm pan, so--yeah. I have to do a lot of explaining my sexuality to people."

"Do you get the gross guy thing?"

"You're going to have to narrow that down," he says. "There are way too many gross guy things."

She grins, and he feels a stupid surge of warmth at the approval in her eyes. "I've got this theory about biphobia, I assume it works for panphobia too. It's always, like--everyone always prioritizes feelings for guys? The assumption isn't that you're secretly gay or secretly straight, it's that men who are bi are in denial about being gay and women who are bi are just doing it for male attention. The key is, it's always all about guys."

"Huh. Yeah, I think you're right. I had a boyfriend in the academy who tried to convince me that my attraction to women was all because of how sexualized they are in society."

"And?"

He smirks. "I really like boobs."

It's the kind of thing he'd say to a friend, and he honestly regrets it as soon as he does, because this is Griffin, and she's prickly. And he wouldn't blame her for thinking it was gross, honestly.

Luckily, she snorts and pats his shoulder. "So say we all, Blake. Get in the car."

So, yeah. If he's honest, she's probably the best part of his new life. She's just so much better than his old partner, who was basically without any merit. Bellamy can put up with a lot of bad personality if someone is a good cop, but Shumway took bribes and didn't give a shit, and he had too much seniority for Captain Miller to do anything about it, no matter how hard he tried.

Griffin has a lot of faults, but he doesn't think she knows how to not give a shit. She cares more intensely about everything than almost anyone else he's ever met.

Which means that when Captain Pike calls him in after a month on the new beat, he can honestly say, "Yeah, it's going well."

"This is usually where I'd ask you how you're adjusting to the hours, but I know you're not having any trouble."

Bellamy's smile is wry. The whole thing about vampires catching fire in sunlight isn't completely true, but they certainly don't like it. He burns like he never has in his life, and he doesn't have sunglasses strong enough to keep his eyes from hurting. Vampires don't go out during the day because they hate it, not because it's fatal.

"No, sir. I'm not having any trouble with that."

"And you and Detective Griffin? I know the two of you don't have the best history."

"She's a good cop," he says. "That's all that matters to me."

He nods. "Glad to hear it. It seems like you're doing well. Still, I wanted to talk to you about the full moon. You joined after the last one, so this is going to be your first on the night shift."

He's not in the habit of tracking the lunar cycle, but he nods like this isn't news to him. "Yes, sir."

Pike snorts. "Relax, detective. I don't expect you to know this as well as I do. Just as long as you know where your next meal is coming from, I'm not worried."

"Amazon," he says, but luckily Pike doesn't hear him.

"I got bitten ten years ago," he goes on, leaning forward. "I take the full moon seriously. We've had only four turned since I was promoted. I asked to be assigned to night watch after, because I knew the deal."

"Am I one of the four, or are you just counting werewolves?" he asks.

"Twenty-two vampires. Unfortunately, you all work every night. Harder to keep track of."

"And you're just counting the reported bites," Bellamy points out. "If no one calls it in--"

"Exactly. I'm glad you understand. We have to be vigilant. This is the kind of thing that destroys people's lives, and it's our responsibility to take care of it. Obviously I won't be working, but you and Griffin will be on patrol, and I trust that you'll be on alert. Full moons are rough. I want you to be prepared and think of this precinct's reputation."

"Yes, sir," he says, and he manages to wait until they're in the car before he bursts out, "Does he even know how much more dangerous full moons are for nonhumans? The amount of werewolves who are killed out of some stupid bullshit fear that they can't control themselves, like the punishment for turning someone isn't--"

Griffin is looking amused. "I tried to warn you."

"I bet he supports locking up werewolves on full moons just to be safe," he mutters.

"He locks himself up," she says. She pauses, and then adds, "You know what they say: once bitten, twice shy."

He actually chokes on his laugh, and she looks ridiculously pleased with herself. "Shit, Griffin," he says. "You have the worst sense of humor of anyone I have ever met."

"But you laughed," she says. "So what does that say about you?"

He rolls his eyes. "Just tell me how we handle the full moon."

She puts her feet up on the dashboard. "The same way we handle everything. We take care of our people."

He's never had a partner before. Not a real one.

He could probably get used to it.

*

"So, how's being a vampire cop?" Octavia asks. She's in grad school in England, and between her classes and his schedule, they don't get to talk in person much. "Have you sold your story yet? Is it more of a comedy or a drama?"

"One of those prestige sitcoms that's supposed to be high brow but it's actually just kind of depressing," he says. 

"Yeah?"

"Honestly, it's better than day shift. Except for the vampire part."

"If I was going to be a supernatural being I'd definitely go for vampire. You're super-strong now, right? And you don't have to eat."

"I buy cow blood on Amazon and put it in a thermos, O. Think about that. Really think about it."

"It's not that much worse than those guys who live off that soylent stuff."

"Yeah, that's the bar I try to clear." He pauses, figures there's no harm in telling her, since he doesn't want to complain to Miller. Octavia has a boyfriend; Miller doesn't. It's easier to complain to her. "It's not great for my sex life."

"Why not?" she asks. "Everyone thinks vampires are hot."

"In theory. Besides, you don't want to go out with someone just because they think vampires are hot. And I don't have time to go out anymore. You know how you feel first thing in the morning? That's how I feel around sunset right now. I really don't want to go out to a club at that point. Or on a date."

"How about other vampires?" O asks. "They should get it, right? There must be vampire clubs or whatever."

"Yeah," he says. But he'd have to be more open about it, and he still doesn't want to deal with that. Bellamy has spent his whole life waiting to disappoint people because they find out something about him; adding vampire to the list just makes him feel _tired_ , down to his bones. Past them. Tired like he's been alive for centuries, like the oldest vampires have. "I know. Sorry, I'm just complaining."

"I don't mind," she says, voice gentling. "I ask how you're doing because I care, you know. I just was expecting, like, _oh no, my bloodlust is consuming me, how do I not murder children_ , not _I don't want to go out and get laid at breakfast time_."

He has to smile. "Sorry to take the glamour out of it."

"You should write a book. How's the new partner working out, by the way?"

He stiffens. "Fine. Why?"

"Because you were worried about her."

"She's a good cop," he says. "We're not hanging out after work or anything, but I couldn't do much better for partners."

"So why aren't you hanging out after work? That's a good place to start with making new friends. And you guys have the same schedule."

"Her personality still sucks." It's not true, but it's easier to think of her like that. To keep Griffin, his partner and the district attorney's daughter, as this separate entity, one who stops existing once work is over.

He tries not to think of _Clarke_ , because he thinks he probably kind of likes Clarke, and liking Clarke seems like a terrible idea.

Octavia doesn't sound convinced, as she shouldn't be. "So, you're doing the denial thing, huh? There's no way you hate anyone you think is a good cop."

"Until I come up with a better plan, yeah," he says. "I'm doing the denial thing."

*

In his defense, it's not like Griffin makes any overtures of friendship either. She's a professional, and even if she seems to like him when they're on the clock, she takes off as soon as they're done and never asks about his plans or offers any of her own. He figures it's entirely possible to get along with someone without wanting to be friends with them, and it's just as well that's how she feels about him.

Besides, what are they going to do? Get drinks at six a.m.? Go for coffee? She's a human; he's sure all she wants to do when she gets off work is pass out. 

Then, she gets into an argument with her mother after their shift.

He's not trying to eavesdrop, it's just that she's having the conversation where he can hear. His hearing got better, after he became a vampire; it's one of the perks. He's stronger, with a better sense of hearing and smell, but his eyesight got worse and taste is--different. Not better or worse, just shifted. 

Regardless, when he hears Griffin's voice, clear and coming from the stairwell, he stops, because there's a note of distress.

"I don't want to go." A pause, and then she says, "It's been seven years, yeah. That doesn't mean--Maybe I _do_ want to be alone for the rest of my life. It's my life, Mom, I get to make those choices." Another pause, and he can hear the agitation rising in her voice. "And I don't see why you think I'd meet someone I wanted to date at one of your parties, I've met one person I even want to _talk to_ at those, so don't pretend this is about me and not--"

He thinks about leaving, because it's really not his business, but the next time she talks, she sounds exhausted, and that means he's _worried_. He always worries about people.

"Look, I'm doing fine. I know that you're worried, but I'm not. I'm happy."

She's in the stairwell like he thought, sitting against the wall, legs against her chest, eyes closed. But she opens them when he gets to the landing, gives him a small, tight smile.

He sits down next to her, his shoulder brushing hers, just enough she'll feel the warmth. Not that he's as warm as he used to be, but it's still noticeable. Griffin is always cold anyway.

"I'll put it on my calendar, but you know how busy I am. And the timing is tough with work, so it's not going to be a priority." She closes her eyes again; he can just barely hear her mother saying it would be _good for her_. "Right. Like I said, I'll see. Bye, Mom."

They sit in silence for a minute, and then Bellamy says, "Fancy party?"

"She doesn't have other kinds. It's one of those--" She waves her hand. "It's a _masquerade ball_. For Halloween."

"Jesus," he says, and the word burns his mouth a little. Christianity really does not like vampires. He doesn't know why. And he especially doesn't know why he can't blaspheme without pain. If he'd made the vampire rules, they would make more sense. "Who has fancy Halloween parties? Who plans fancy Halloween parties months in advance?"

"My mother. It's--" She lets out a long sigh, sinking back against the wall. "Honestly, I should probably go. It's Halloween-themed because it's a fundraiser for the Supernatural Creatures Defense Association, so her heart is in the right place. Her execution is just lacking, as always."

"She wants you to find a date at that?" he asks, before he remembers that's going to tell her he was listening in on her conversation.

She doesn't seem to notice. "She's figured out I'm liberal. This is her way of--being nice. A patronizing, kind of awkward olive branch. Which is better than the alternative."

"Still," he says. "Sounds stressful. Makes me glad my parents are dead."

Her snort of laughter is a little watery, but it still makes him feel like he said the right thing. "You aren't allowed to tell me I have a shitty sense of humor."

"Takes one to know one," he says. He stands and offers his hand. "I'm hungry. You want to get breakfast?"

"You don't have to feel sorry for me." But she still lets him help her up. 

"Who says I'm feeling sorry for you? I want food. If you don't, don't come. It's just breakfast, Griffin. Take it or leave it."

"Clarke," she says.

"What?"

"I'll come. But you need to start calling me Clarke. It's weird. Pike's the only one who calls me Griffin."

"Clarke," he says, and it's like something in him breaking, but not in a bad way. It's something that _should_ break. "You coming?"

She grins. "Yeah, I'm coming."

*

And just like that, it's a _thing_ , the two of them stopping by a shitty all-night diner and getting bacon and eggs, which--bacon actually tastes _better_ as a vampire. He thinks it's the salt. That's a nice plus.

It is like something out of a TV show, the post-episode cool-down where he and Clarke just get to relax, talk about the day, and take a break. He didn't think real people did stuff like this; even on day shift, he tended to go home when he was done and hang out with Miller, at best, or just pass out, if he wasn't even feeling that social.

But it's easy to spend time with Clarke. She's smart and--okay, he still maintains that her sense of humor is terrible, but it makes him laugh, so he has to admit that they maybe have compatibly bad senses of humor. And that's the kind of thought he has to skitter away from, because _compatible_ is a dangerous word. It's more than just friendship; it's a kind of fitting together he's not willing to consider. Because she's still _Clarke_ , and he still hasn't even told her he's a vampire.

It's not the kind of thing he'd expected would bother him; he's handling it. He doesn't get overwhelmed by the scent of blood anymore, and he knows his vampiric abilities help him sometimes. He'd still probably just not be a vampire, given the choice, but it's not _bad_. And some of that not badness is on Clarke, which is probably why he feels guilty in the first place.

They probably don't make a _Thanks for making my transition into unlife more bearable_ card yet. It's still a little too taboo.

But it still feels like a deliberate omission, something he isn't telling her and should be. It might matter, at some point. They could be in a bad situation.

Fuck, if she ever even tries to drink from his thermos, it's bad. It doesn't have to be some huge thing; it could just be the minor betrayal of his not telling her something.

"Well, would you be pissed at her?" Miller asks, reasonable as always.

"About what?"

"If she was a vampire, or a werewolf, or whatever else. Siren. If she was a nonhuman and she wasn't telling you, would you be pissed if you found out?"

"No," he says, surprising himself with his own certainty and vehemence. "It's not--" He stops, because it's a big deal, but it's not that kind of big deal. "I wouldn't expect her to tell me unless it was important. Or she wanted to."

"Ah," says Miller, pouring a world of meaning into the syllable without any apparent effort. "So, you want to tell her."

Bellamy told Miller he was a vampire because they're roommates, and he told Octavia because she's his sister. He told Captain Miller because he was sure he wouldn't get fired, and he didn't have to tell Captain Pike. He knew what would happen, roughly; he knew he wouldn't lose Miller or O. He knew he could still do his job, and if he lost it, it would be a sign he didn't want it in the first place.

Clarke feels like a potential casualty, someone who wouldn't leave him, but who might be _different_. Telling Clarke feels like the death of possibility, of--

"Oh fuck," he says, and puts his head down on the table.

"Yeah?" asks Miller.

"Yeah. Jesus," he adds, just to feel the burn of it on his tongue. "Yeah. It's bad."

*

"All right, people, October is coming."

"Is that like winter coming?" asks Jasper. "Are we the Starks?"

"Jordan," says Pike, and Jasper shuts his mouth. "Good. You all know what this means. October brings a major increase in supernatural crimes, and--"

"And an even larger increase in hate crimes against nonhumans and in nonhumans being framed for crimes," Clarke says. 

"When are you going to stop bringing that up, Griffin?" Pike asks.

"When you start mentioning it as part of your spiel."

"It's our job to protect our constituents--"

"Which includes nonhumans," Clarke says.

"Blake, if you aren't keeping her quiet, I don't know what we're paying you for," says Pike, and there's scattered laughter, but there's a harshness in his eyes that makes Bellamy feel ripped open. It sounds like a joke, but it's not. Pike expects him to agree, because he was bitten too. Pike thinks Bellamy is on his side.

"Am I getting a raise?" he asks. "Because I don't know how you think you pay me enough to keep her quiet. Besides," he adds. "I agree with her. I'm all for focusing our efforts where they'll do the most good, but that means actually doing the research on who needs us. Clarke has."

Pike rubs his face. "And now there are two of you."

"We want the same thing, Captain," Clarke says, going reasonable now that he's spoken up. It's a familiar tactic. "I just think we can do a better job protecting all our people if we actually know what we're up against, instead of pretending the problem is something that it's not. There's an increase in crimes that look supernatural in origin, but studies have shown, consistently and overwhelmingly, that most crimes that look like they're committed by nonhumans aren't, especially in in October. It's not nonhumans, it's terrorism."

"And is that what you would tell your father, Griffin?"

If he wasn't sitting next to her, Bellamy wouldn't feel Clarke stiffen. He wouldn't be able to tell at all that the attack hit its mark, because Clarke's expression doesn't shift. But he can feel it, so he presses his shoulder against hers, and she presses back.

Her voice is steady when she says, "Yes, sir. That is exactly what I would tell my father."

Pike nods, lets his eyes flick to Bellamy, but then moves on. "Fine. We're looking at an increase in _apparently_ supernatural crimes, so it's important to be on high alert and to know what you're dealing with. Anything looks suspicious, you call it in. Anything looks like it might cause a problem, you report it. _Immediately_. And we will figure out what's going on. Do I make myself clear?" There's a chorus of _yes, sir_ , and Pike nods. "Good. Griffin get over here."

Bellamy puts his headphones in so he won't be able to overhear, but he stays close by the door, waiting while Pike says whatever Pike needs to say. He doesn't know anything about Clarke's father, which is weird in retrospect. He's used to not thinking about parents because his are such a bad story, so he doesn't ask. And Clarke's so open about her mother, he sort of assumed if there was anything bad with her dad, she would have mentioned that too.

It hadn't occurred to him that there might be something a lot worse with her dad.

She bumps her shoulder against his. "Waiting for me?" she asks, once he gets his headphones out.

"You're my partner. I wasn't exactly going to go driving off without you." He looks down at her, swallows. "Are we going on patrol?"

"Where else would we be going?"

"Wherever you want to go."

Her mouth twitches into a smile. "I want to go to the car."

Clarke usually drives, but this time he raises his eyebrows at her, and her expression is grateful when she tosses him the keys. He gets the car going and starts for the 7-11 where they tend to go for a break, after a few hours of patrolling. It's earlier than usual, but she looks like she could use a pick-me-up already.

"Are you going to ask?" she asks, once they're moving.

"Nope," he says. "But I'll listen, if you want to talk."

She smiles down at her hands. "My dad was a cop. He was--really big into nonhuman rights. All rights, I guess. You remind me of him, actually. He joined the force because he saw the problems with law enforcement and wanted to fix them. He wanted to do better."

He swallows past the lump that grows in his throat. "And he got bitten?"

"No," she says. "He got murdered. That's part of why--Captain Pike acts like the worst thing in the world is getting bitten. And I get it. But--if my dad was a vampire, he'd still be _here_."

Bellamy would stay his heart stops, but his heart stopped six months ago. He doesn't know what his heart does at this point, from a medical perspective, but whatever it does, it stops doing it right. "A vampire," he repeats. "A vampire killed your dad?"

"Yeah. And the captain knows, so he expected me to be on his side. The dangers of the undead. And--sure. I know why people react like that. But it's not how I felt."

"Yeah? Why not?"

"Because my dad wouldn't want me to. And because--" She sighs. "One vampire killed my dad. But that's not the only vampire I've ever met. It was awful and terrible, but if a human had killed him, I wouldn't hate all humans. I did the research, it just doesn't happen that much. And part of why it happened was--he thought my dad was wrong, to give vampires credit. He hated himself for what he'd become." She sighs. "If I hated vampires--it wouldn't be what my dad wanted. He'd want me to help."

"You do."

She doesn't open her eyes, and her smile is tired. But it's a smile. "I could be doing more."

"You do plenty, Clarke. I wasn't going to argue with Pike, and I should have. But I don't have the statistics."

"You don't have to fight every fight."

"Neither do you."

"I don't," she says. "Trust me, there are plenty of fights I'm not having."

"Still," he says. "You're good, Clarke."

The way she ducks her head on a smile makes him feel like an _asshole_ , and the thickness of the words he's not saying is like blood in his mouth.

*

Clarke's mother sends him an invitation to her Halloween ball. It comes in on his day off, and he and Miller stare at it for a while in horror before he can even bear to open it.

"That's your partner's mom?"

"Yeah."

"This is the fanciest envelope I've ever seen. She got someone to do _calligraphy_."

"That's what rich people do," he says. He slides his finger under the seal, not sure what it could possibly be _except_ an invitation to the ball, but he's still surprised when it is. _Detective Bellamy Blake, you are cordially invited to the First Annual Halloween Masquerade to benefit the Supernatural Creatures Defense Association_. Does she _know_? She probably could. She's the DA; if there's any kind of required list of nonhuman police, she certainly has access to it. 

"Do you own a nice enough outfit to go to this thing?"

"What makes you think I want to go?" he asks.

"I assume your partner's going, so you're going."

He rubs his face. "Fuck. I'm an asshole."

"Yeah, but I'm not sure why you're saying that now. You're always an asshole."

It's their day off, but he assumes Clarke will be awake. He doesn't think people sleep in on their day off when they work the night shift.

"I'm going to call her," he says, and ducks into his room for some privacy.

He's never actually called her before, so her confusion when she picks up seems warranted. "Bellamy? Is everything okay? What's up?"

"Your mom invited me to her masquerade."

There's a long pause, and then, "Jesus. Fuck! She invited you?"

"That was basically my reaction, yeah."

"You don't have to come. She's just--she probably wants to make me feel included or something."

"So she invited me?"

"She knows I like you," Clarke says, and his heart does something unpleasant. "Don't worry about it."

"Are you going?"

"Yeah. It's--she's putting in the effort. I should too."

He closes his eyes. "What are you doing today?"

"Nothing in particular. Why?"

"I need to talk to you."

"About the masquerade?"

"Sure."

"Okay," she says, without hesitation. "Do you know where I live? Or do you want to go somewhere else?"

"I can come over," he says. "I'll be there in twenty."

"Cool. I'll order pizza."

As promised, there's pizza waiting for him when he gets there, and Clarke in a pair of pajamas, wearing glasses, which he's never seen before. Her apartment is as messy as her desk, but it feels warm and lived in. It feels like _Clarke_.

"Hi," she says. "You don't have to come to the masquerade. I'm not expecting you to. And you really didn't have to come over."

"I'm a vampire," he says, and she stares. "I thought--you deserve to know. We're partners. Or, uh, we were. If you don't want to work with me anymore, I get it. I'm pretty sure Captain Pike would reassign you if you asked."

Clarke's staring at him, which is really bad, because it makes him want to keep talking, and there's really nothing else to say, not until she responds. So he makes himself stay quiet.

"When?" she asks.

"When?"

"Sorry, I meant--how long?"

"That's why I switched to night shift."

"Fuck," she mutters, but she doesn't sound angry. "I can't believe I didn't even _think_ of that."

He can't help a smile. "Are you pissed you didn't _guess_ I was a vampire? Because I was trying to hide it."

"Yeah, but you're not very good at it."

" _What_?"

"The thermos. You left the scene of a crime to go and drink from a thermos, but you won't let anyone else _touch it_. You're weird about nonhumans, your hearing is great, your eyes suck, you won't break down doors--"

"Do you just keep a list of vampire stereotypes?" he asks, impressed in spite of himself. "Plenty of people have thermoses, Clarke. And maybe I was just--I could have had a thing about germs."

"God," she says, and makes a face. "I can't believe I didn't notice!"

"You need to give me some help here," he prompts, gentle. "If you--I get it. If you want a new partner, or--"

"No, of course not." Her laugh is bright and sudden. "You're a _vampire_."

"Yeah. Is that--good? You're happy about it? You always wanted a vampire for a partner?"

"This is stupid," she says, slow, and he's not going to agree, but he's not going to argue yet either. He really has no idea what's happening. He was expecting--not this. "But I was kind of--I was really happy when you said you were pan. Because--you're cute. And it's easier to date someone who gets, like--the queer thing. But then I remembered the vampire thing is a deal-breaker for a lot of people. And you hate me. And we're partners so even if you didn't hate me and I wasn't a vampire it was stupid to--"

"Slow down," he says. "You're--" He doesn't actually know where to start. "Is it bad that I care more you're into me than that you're a vampire? I mean, uh--I care that you're a vampire, just--you're into me. Vampire is just a bonus."

"A _bonus_ ," she teases. Her hand is on his chest, and she's grinning.

"Like you said, it's nice to have someone who understands," he says, and kisses her.

*

"So, uh--what happened?" he asks. He would have asked sooner, but Clarke seemed a lot more interested in making out, and he couldn't say he wasn't. It's been way too long since he made out with someone he really liked. And he really likes her. But he still has some questions.

"When my dad got killed," she says. "Which is why I wanted to make out first, it's not like it's a fun story."

He tugs her closer and nuzzles her hair. She smells _so good_. He'd been trying to ignore it, but up close like this it's overwhelming. He likes everything about her. "You don't have to tell me."

"No, it's not--I've been thinking about it a lot. Telling people. Telling _you_. But, yeah. It was fucked up. I was with my dad when the vampire who killed him found him, and he--turned me first. Before he killed my dad. To show him, I guess. You know how it is when you first turn, I was too weak to do anything."

"Jesus," he says, and she pokes him.

"You need to stop saying that. I know how much it hurts."

"I can't believe I'm actually unholy."

"Really? It seemed really plausible to me."

"Seriously, that's awful. I'm so sorry."

"My mom kept my part of it quiet, but--it was really hard for a few years. My whole life was upside down and she couldn't look at me without thinking about what happened. I got it, but--"

"But it's nice to have family on your side for stuff like that."

"Do you?" she asks, fingers sliding under his shirt. It does feel obvious now; he knew she was colder than she should be. 

"Yeah. It's just me and my sister. She doesn't live here, but she's on my side. And Captain Miller's son, he's my best friend. He's always on my side."

"That's good."

"And your mom is coming around."

"She doesn't want me to be public about it yet. But--she wants me to be able to be. Some day."

"And she's having parties to set you up with like-minded individuals."

She laughs. "It took her a few years, but she's back on _no bisexual vampire daughter of mine is going to be single forever_."

"Definitely not," he says, and feels a little embarrassed, until she leans up to kiss him again.

"Definitely not. You know, you haven't told me your story yet."

"My story?"

"How you got turned."

He doesn't blush anymore, which is something. "It's really stupid," he says, and she laughs.

"Stupid? Your vampire origin story is _stupid_?"

"My sister laughed at me."

She kisses his shoulder. "That's terrible."

"No, you're going to laugh too, I promise. An old lady wanted me to be her undead consort."

Clarke chokes on her laugh, and doesn't even look ashamed. " _What_?"

"Yeah, some neighbors heard signs of a struggle in her apartment, called it in because they were worried, but by the time I got there, she said it was burglars and they had already taken what they wanted and left. She had me look around and I didn't find anything, but then she pretended one of them was back, knocked me out, and turned me. Apparently one of her grandkids turned her because they were really close and she was getting old, and then he got killed, so she was lonely. And she thought I was hot."

"You are hot," she agrees. "What happened to her?"

"I didn't actually realize what happened, and you know how you're kind of fuzzy after for a couple days, so--she told me I got the burglars, but she already took care of them before I showed up. It would have been pretty clear self-defense, even with the vampire angle, but--"

"She turned you."

"Yeah. Once I figured it out, I arrested her, explained to Captain Miller, and got myself reassigned to night shift. She made a deal and got prison, which is actually pretty good for her. It's minimum security and she has a lot of people to talk to. As long as she doesn't turn anyone else she should be fine."

Clarke is smiling. "Do you visit her?"

"Sometimes," he admits, grudging, and she kisses him.

"You're cute."

"It's not like getting her staked would have fixed me," he mutters. "She's a lonely old woman. That's not justice, it's revenge." He sighs. "If it had been O, it might have been harder. But--I'm okay."

"You're okay," she agrees.

"And it's not like I can blame her," he adds. "I'd make a pretty good undead consort."

"I always thought so."

That makes him frown. "Always? Even before we were partners?"

"Who wants an undead consort who just agrees with them all the time? It would get boring. You're smart and opinionated and interesting. I always liked you, yeah. I figured I'd eventually win you over."

"In the hypothetical world where you made me your undead consort."

"We could have just dated, maybe," she says, surprisingly soft. "I would have been okay with that."

Bellamy hasn't ever really thought of himself as having a great support network, so it's strange to realize how automatic it was for him to tell Miller and Octavia about what happened, how sure he was that his roommate wouldn't kick him out, that his sister wouldn't disown him. He hadn't been scared because he knew even if his life was going to change, it wasn't going to be destroyed.

Clarke lost her dad, and she lost her mom for a long time too. She was younger than he was, and it probably felt like the end of the world.

By all rights, it probably should have been.

"Yeah, but I'm available for undead consort," he points out. "So let's try that first."

Clarke laughs and snuggles closer. "Yeah," she says. "Let's start there."

*

The Halloween Masquerade starts late and goes all night, because, according to Clarke, her mother is more good intention than good execution. Which--he's glad Abby Griffin's heart is in the right place, but he still doesn't _like_ her.

Which makes it all the more unfortunate that they don't have an excuse to not go to the party after their shift. But Clarke is going, and he's Clarke's boyfriend.

"That doesn't mean you have to go."

"She did invite me," he says. "That's how vampires work, right? We need to be invited."

She straightens his tie one more time, and then leans up to peck him on the mouth. "Thank you. For coming."

"It's my first Halloween as a vampire. I should do something fun, right?"

"Are you saying that wasn't a fun shift?"

They got called on a nonhuman Halloween party, which was breaking absolutely no laws, so they just gave the kids some candy and moved on, and broke up three fistfights, which is his favorite thing, now that he's not hiding his abilities from Clarke. He's always been pretty decent in a fight, but he wasn't the kind of guy who could just wade into a brawl and start pulling people apart. It's fun, now that he can.

McIntire and Monroe finally brought in a werewolf they'd been looking for, a really bad one, who was biting people even outside of the full moon, and he surprised himself by being unreservedly glad about that too. It sucks because some people will take it as confirmation of all their worst prejudices. But those people are assholes anyway, and someone who was committing crimes is behind bars now.

Clarke's right; it's been a good night.

"I'm coming with you," he says. "Does she know about me?"

"What about you?"

"Anything. I thought she invited me to the ball because she saw I was a vampire in my records."

"Oh. No, not as far as I know. She knows you're my boyfriend now. But when she asked what you thought about the vampire thing, I just told her you were fine with it."

"And?"

"And she's happy for me. I think she thought I was just going to resign myself to being, you know."

"Angsty lonely vampire."

"Basically."

"My sister thought that too. I told her I wasn't getting laid anymore and so she started sending me weird vampire dating sites. I shouldn't have complained."

"Does she know you're getting laid now?"

"Yeah, and she wanted no details except that you're good to me."

"What did you say?"

"My standards are low so I'm happy," he says, and she shoves his arm. "I told her I'm happy," he adds, leaning down to kiss her. "Even if I have to go to this stupid party."

"You didn't complain about the party to your sister."

"I did. And to Miller. I'm going to be complaining about your mom's parties for the next century or two, I'm pretty sure."

"That's still weird," Clarke says. "Centuries."

"Really weird," he agrees, and offers his arm. "I figure we'll get used to it."

She takes his arm and leans her head against his shoulder, just for a second. "Yeah, probably. I guess it could be worse." 

He has to smile. "That's my optimist," he says, and they go inside together.


End file.
